


Kord's Collar

by Imperator Mentus (ImperatorMentus)



Category: Codex Alera - Jim Butcher
Genre: Collars, F/M, Master/Slave, Mind Control, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperatorMentus/pseuds/Imperator%20Mentus
Summary: A dark what-if about what might have happened had Isana not been rescued from Kord's clutches.
Relationships: Kord/Isana
Kudos: 9





	Kord's Collar

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned that this is fairly dark. Kord is an unabashed villain, whose canonical end is well deserved.
> 
> Nonetheless, to those who like such things, the situation around Isana's captivity in book 1 does draw interest.

Isana sat on the parched dirt, for she had long ago realized that pacing was a waste of strength. The smokehouse walls were sturdy, far too sturdy, and she could not hope to defeat them. Not as she was now. Her power was water, and there was little here but smoke, ash, and coal. It had been hours since she had been allowed so much as sip of water, and cracked lips ached with every breath she took.

Kord was a thug, a slaver, and a brutish madman, and now she was trapped in his clutches. He had seen what she had done to Odiana, the strange woman that had been her enemy until the pair of them were captured in the night. Now they were both prisoners, and Isana could not bear the thought of going through what the other woman had.

She needed to escape.

How, though? Her power was water, and there was little enough of it here. This prison of Kord's was too strong, too perfectly suited for holding someone like her. Were it not for the other woman, she would have beaten Kord easily back at the river, but trapped in this dry, searing heat she could not even spit at him, much less call upon the full force of her power.

The last words he had spoken still echoed in her head, though it had been hours since Kord left.

“What you need to learn," he had said, "is that slaves are just animals. You train an animal by providing rewards and punishments. Rewarding good behavior. Punishing bad. That’s how you turn a wild horse into an obedient mount. How you train a wolf into a hunting hound.” He opened the door and said, casually, “Same with slaves. You’re just more animals. To be used for labor, breeding, whatever. You just have to be trained. You’ll wear the collar soon, Think about that.”

How long had it been? Delerious hours had passed in feverish exhaustion, though she could not possibly sleep, not with the fate hanging over her. Every moment was a small torment, even though she wished the day would last forever. The sooner night fell, the sooner he would arrive.

Once more Isana reached out to her Fury, desperately searching for the familiar connection that would allow her to draw upon its power for her own. Rill was there, she knew it. Isana was sure she could almost feel him, but always he remained just out of reach. Even her tears had dried. What hope did she have of touching a Fury of water?

She heard load revelry from the main house, a manic combination of dirge and victory celebration. His thugs had won the day, yet Kord's son was dead. He would not let her forget that. The mood was ugly, and getting more so by the minute. They had very little time left, and it would soon be out. Again she tested the ring of coals, but again Kord's fury was there waiting for her. She paced the circle, desperate to find a solution, but none came.

Odiana was no help. When Isana asked her for advice, the other woman just shook her head, babbling that it was impossible to fight. The collar wouldn't let her. The same collar that Isana would wear if she didn't do something fast.

Her hands traced her throat, trying and failing not to imagine the horror. It seemed impossible, utterly unimaginable. Even Kord wouldn't do something so despicable, would he?

The softly convulsing girl at Isana's feet suggested otherwise.

The feast broke up, and Isana could hear voices moving out into the yard.

"It's time, ladies!" Kord bellowed drunkenly.

The heavy bolt holding the door shut slid open, and time ran out.

With a wave and an effort of earthcraft, Kord parted the fiery circle, opening a clear path to his captives. How easy it was for him. Kord was in his element, surrounded by dry, familiar earth that would answer his every whim. A watercrafter's prison was like home to an earthcrafter, and his every display of power drove home how helpless Isana was. If the stood on the liquid mud of a riverbank's shore, the situation would have been far different, but that was a long way from here and Kord stood just paces away.

He gestured to his feet, and with a soft, mewling cry Odiana crawled to him. Kord reached down, patting her head, and she groaned softly in unmistakable pleasure. His meaty hand grabbed her collar tight, yanking Odiana to her feet. He glared at her, and she was either unable or unwilling to meet his eyes.

"The moment I hear of any disobedience, or even one little scrap of defiance or insubordination, it's going back on. Is that understood?"

Eyes wide, she nodded vigorously.

"But that isn't going to be necessary, is it," he said, "You're going to be a good girl, aren't you?"

"Yes master," she said eagerly. "I'll be good. I'll be a good girl. Whatever you want."

"Of course you will," Kord said, and with a slight tug the collar snapped open. Odiana gasped then, trembling with disbelief. Isana caught a faint, almost hungry look of longing as she stared at the collar, then with a shudder and sob Odiana tore her gaze away. Kord laughed, shoving her into the waiting hands of his men.

"She's all yours, lads," Kord laughed, "Just as soon as we finish with this one."

Isana ran, kicking past the coals as she tried to get outside. It was little use, the only exit was blocked by his men, and with no fury to call on they easily overpowered her.

They held her then, arms forced painfully behind her back as she tried to kick and fight. Collar dangling from his hand, Kord approached.

"Stop this, Kord!" she commanded, "It's not to late."

Kord's scowl darkened, and Isana knew she had said exactly the wrong thing.

"That's the last time you ever give me orders," said Kord.

Isana twisted her head out of the way, but a moment later his hands closed around her throat. She struggled, but his was an earthcrafter's strength, and a powerful one at that. Without access to water, trying to budge his hands was like flailing against a mountain. Not very useful and likely to get her hurt, but what else could she do?

Cold metal against her skin. Soft, pliable, almost painfully chilled next to the dry heat of the shed. Isana writhed in desperation, but then she felt the click almost as much as she heard it.

The collar was on!

She screamed then, lashing out in useless fury and terror. Even in the heat of the room, the collar's touch felt like ice against her throat. There was a sharp, searing line down her palm, and Isana's hand was forced to her throat. She felt the cold metal beneath her fingers, felt them slide against the trail of blood. Her blood on the collar. The first half of the bonding ritual, now missing only Kord's blood to activate the seal.

"Don't do this, Kord, please" she said, but nothing she said would move him. She saw his face, full of grim anticipation as his hand pressed against her neck. There was a pause, as if all the world had vanished, and for one hopeful moment she believed that it had failed.

Then the pleasure hit her.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. Not Odiana's words, not the sight of her writhing on the ground, not even her own imaginative fears. The sensation was all consuming, utterly overwhelming. Bliss, contentment, ecstasy, joy, warmth, approval. It was every positive emotion she had ever felt rolled into one blissful package. They consumed her to the very depths of her being.

"That's too much," she thought, before passing beyond any conscious recollection.

There was contact, a pair of hands touching her possessively. They roamed across her, feeling every inch of her body. Intimate in ways she had not known for years, and although a distant part of her was disturbed, she could not quite remember why. Isana craved the touch, the closeness that it brought. She didn't care who or what or why, all that mattered was to feel his warmth against her.

The glow ended, and Isana came back to herself, painfully piecing awareness back together. Already, she ached from the pleasure's absence, longing for it even before she remembered where she was and what had happened. She was draped over Kord's lap, his enormous hands still roughly fondling her. The thought disgusted Isana, but it was hard for her to muster the willpower to do anything about it.

Not when it also felt so good.

She gazed up at Kord, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. He looked no different than before, but something had changed. Everything had.

His hand cupped her breast, kneading it through the thickly spun fabric of her dress. There was no gentleness there, nor any tenderness. This was not an act of love or tenderness. He was groping her for the simple reason that he wanted to, and to show her he could. To make sure Isana knew that there was nothing at all she could do to stop him. Isana tried to push his hands away, but somehow that sickened her even more than Kord's repulsive attentions. Her failed resistance just made him chuckle.

"Still think someone is coming to save you?" Kord asked, his free hand petting her long hair like he would a dog.

"Yes," she said, her voice soft and languid, without any force or fire behind the words. "You... won't get away with this."

Movement was difficult, and volition harder still. The aftereffects of that overwhelming pleasure still left her ragged and exhausted, in too much shock to resist. She should be panicking, Isana knew, but the emotion would not fully come. Not yet.

The memory of that all encompassing bliss was still too fresh in her mind, too raw. Even knowing what it was from, a part of her would have given anything to feel that joy again. Despite knowing his intentions full well, Kord's touch was soothing to her, lulling her into a false sense of peace. Somehow, Kord's thick, hairy body was a source of comfort.

"Maybe," he said, "but do you know what you'll do when they get here?"

He paused for an answer, Isana shook her head.

"Whatever the hell I want," he laughed again, pitching her from his lap.

She stumbled onto the warm floor, her face pressed against the dirt. Still shaking, she was nonetheless determined to resist. The door was there, unguarded and unprotected. Kord's men had all gone elsewhere, off to have their fun with Odiana or whoever else Kord had left them. Isana took a step, and then another. The door was so close now, she could feel the cool night breeze flowing in. Just a few more steps and she could vanish out into the night. Just a few more steps.

"Stay there, bitch," Kord's rough voice came from behind her.

Isana froze, an ugly, aching feeling churning the pit of her stomach. No, Isana wasn't going to give up that easily. Not without a fight. She took another halting step towards the door. It burned her legs, set her stomach heaving, but she took another one, and then another. Almost there. Just a few more feet and she would be free. All she had to do was be strong and keep fighting.

She tried to move again, but the pain doubled her over, making her gasp for breath. Unable to rise fully, Isana still tried to force out one more step, only to collapse onto the floor.

"You see that? That's what you get when you disobey, you dumb little bitch."

It hurt, it hurt a lot, but she had expected that. She'd prepared herself for the pain, steeled her heart against it. What she hadn't, couldn't understand until she actually felt it was that pain was only the beginning. Pain was the beginning, not the end. Isana felt every negative emotion she had ever experienced in her life. Pain, yes, but also shame, and fear, and disappointment. It all blended together into one hateful, hurtful moment of agony. Throughout it all, she was aware of only one thing. That the suffering, every moment of pain she felt, it was all for one reason only: because she had displeased Kord.

The pain ended at some point, she wasn't sure how long it had taken. There was no real sense of time while caught in the throes of Kord's disapproval, just a constant, unending stream of unhappiness.

"Just do what you're told and you'll be a good girl. You are going to be a good girl now, aren't you?"

Kord was with her again, stroking her hair almost fondly. Isana cried, pressing herself against him unthinkingly. Immediately she nodded in agreement. What else could she do?

There was an immediate flush of gratitude at his consoling words, along with an instinctive knowledge that everything would be all right just so long as she obeyed Kord. It wasn't true, she knew in her head that the man was evil, and that he wanted nothing more than to hurt her, but that knowledge was useless to her. No matter that she knew better, Isana believed that all would be right so long as Kord was satisfied. It was impossible to shake the growing association between unhappiness and disobedience.

"Stand up," he commanded, and Isana forced herself to her feet. The last of the pain went away, replaced by the faintest trace of satisfaction. Isana had done what she was told. She was a good girl. This was the tiniest, faintest echo of the bliss she had felt, but it was enough.

Wasn't that nice? A tiny, traitorous voice in her head seemed to say. So much more pleasant to stop fighting and do what Kord commands.

"Better," he said, "Now let's see the rest of you. Take it off."

"No," she said, barely more than a whisper. She knew what was coming, but this had to end somewhere. She tried to run for the door again, but couldn't quite force her legs to move. The pain returned, a dull, pulsing ache in her limbs that grew slowly with every moment of refusal. Still she held out. She was strong, tough, there was no way she would give in to this monster.

"What was that, bitch," Kord said, "I didn't hear you."

The ache blossomed into a searing fire at his words. Isana cried out again, tears running down her face. There was more to come, the vast dark cloud of his disapproval hovered just at the edge of her horizon, drawing closer with every second she held out. However bad this was, Isana knew it could get worse. Much worse.

"Yes," she cried in pain and humiliation. It wasn't quite enough. "Yes Master," she added quickly, and reached for the ties of her dress.

Kord liked that.

"There you go. That's a good girl," Kord told her, and Isana gasped in pleasure. Her breath caught, eyes fluttering shut as happiness washed over her. Isana's body spasmed, paralyzed by the pleasure. All except her hands, which continued to disrobe her body.

Piece by piece, her clothing fell to the hot, dusty floor. He leered openly, mocking Isana as she shed the outer layers of her dress. It was unthinkable that she should be so shamefully exposed in front of this despicable brute of a man, and worse still that she should do it to herself. She wanted to stop. She needed to stop. But whenever she hesitated, even thought too hard about resisting, the barest hint of discomfort squeezed in.

She couldn't bear that pain again, she just couldn't. No matter how humiliating this was, she could not stop. Not without making things even worse. It was just clothes, no different from when she went to bathe. That was what she told herself, anyways. And after that-

-No. Best not to think about that. Just do what he says and everything will be all right.

She stood there before him utterly bare, her most intimate places open to his most casual scrutiny. Never had she felt so vulnerable and exposed, so utterly helpless. For so long, Isana had been the strong one, the one in charge. Now that had ended, and they both knew it.

She reviled him, but the warmth of his approval fell upon her naked body like rays from the morning sun. More refreshing than a mountain spring. She wanted to cover herself, to bring her hands up and hide her body from his lascivious gaze, but she did not. In her mind, she told herself that it would be a meaningless gesture, soon to be overridden. But at the same time, a small yet insistent part of her mind reminded her that Kord wouldn't want that.

"Very good," Kord said, and Isana shivered from another warm glow of approval. "Now remove mine."

Isana's eyes widened in shock at his suggestion, at the implication of his commands. Immediately her thoughts turned to refusal, to deny such an awful, degrading request. The pleasure receded, the threat of impending pain looming just beyond it.

"I can't," she whimpered, only to cringe back as the disaproval struck her.

"What was that, slut?"

This time, she cried out. Bending over as the clawing nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

"I'll do it," she said, scrambling ahead of the pain, "I'll be a good girl."

"That's more like it," he said to her, and it was gone again.

For now.

Her hands settled on Kord's woolen shirt, and the pain retreated further still. Touching him was the absolutely last thing she wanted, yet her body remembered how good his last touch felt, and craved a repeat no matter how she despised him.

Stripped to the waist, the waning firelight revealed Kord to be every bit as hairy and brutish as she had expected, though his muscles were powerfully built in the way only an earthcrafter could be. Her mind flinched from continuing, but the thought of pain to come if she disobeyed was even worse. She reached for Kord's belt.

As her shaky hands fumbled at the buckle, he laughed again.

"You see, little Isi, it's like I told you. Just an animal, that's all you are, and you're training up real nice."

Isana burned with shame, but that was suffocated under the flush satisfaction that came from even those small words of praise. She knelt down to unstrap his boots, doing her best to ignore that... thing dangling just in front of her between his legs.

When he was completely nude, she tried to step back away from him, but Kord caught her arm. In panic, she called for Rill. There was no more water to call on than there had been a minute ago, but this time the efforts sent painful spasms all throughout her body. She bent over, stomach retching though she had nothing in it to spew up.

"You tried to use your fury against me," Kord said menacingly, "didn't you!"

Isana flinched, nodding her head vigorously.

"That ends now. You will never call a fury against me. In fact, you will never use your furycrafting ever again unless it's to serve me. You understand that, you worthless bitch?"

The agony intensified, and a gasping, helpless Isana nodded her head again.

"Good girl," he told her, and Isana sighed in relief.

It was true, she knew that she wouldn't. Just like that, a huge part of her life had been cut away. Something that had been with her for years, something that had been all but integral to her identity. Watercrafting was part of who she was, but the thought of disobeying Kord hurt too much for her to.

"Funny thing is, if you'd have waited, if you'd caught me off guard, it might have worked. But now, you never will, will you."

"No Kord," she said, completely honest, "I won't."

He paused then, giving her a funny, calculating look, one far more measured than the plain malice he'd been showing so far.

"You are a strong furycrafter, though, aren't you," he said, in a curious, detached tone. "A whole lot stronger than my frigid, useless wife ever was. Maybe I won't get rid of you after all. You've cost me the only son that isn't a useless weakling. It's only fair that you give me a replacement."

With all that had happened to her so far, it took Isana a few seconds to understand exactly what he 

"What? Kord, you can't be serious. Please, I'm begging you. Don't do this."

The light slap shut her up. It barely hurt, far less than the seeping foulness she felt inside at the thought of his disapproval. He smiled, thugh, and with it his look of hungry malice returned. With a hungry sigh, he pointed to the floor.

"I love hearing you beg," he told her, "soon, you'll be begging me to use you. On your back!"

Again Isana tried to resist, but her body flinched, and she could not bring herself to even voice the rejection. Her eyes locked onto his, challenging them and trying to find the strength to refuse. She could not. His eyes gleamed with triumph as she broke, lowering herself to the dirt floor. It felt warm against her back, and hard. She wiggled slightly to dislodge a sharp stone, mindful of the way the motions shook her body. From down here, he towered over her. In a way, it almost felt appropriate.

"Spread em," he commanded, and she did so without thinking. Already, her body was growing conditioned to obey his voice.

Isana watched as he knelt down between her legs, horrifyingly mindful of the engorged rod between his legs. Let this all just be some terrible nightmare, she begged, but it was not so. The weight that settled against her as he leaned forward onto her was far too real.

Their flesh pressed together with an intimacy she had thought long abandoned. The hair of his chest rubbed harshly against her breasts, his weigh halfway suffocating her in a way that made her feel even more helpless than she had before. Every part of her mind railed against this, but she could find no strength in her resist his advances.

Unwilling to look, she turned her head, trying to block from her mind what she could not refuse with her body. His mouth pressed against her ear, and she could feel his warm, stinking breath on her face.

"That other bitch knew what she was doing. She was a good actress, used to it like the slut she was, but not you. You're no actress, are you? This is all genuine, all real. Every bit of it. I want you to remember that tonight. Remember that when I break you and have you moaning like a whore. Remember that it's all for one simple reason: because you are a whore. My whore."

The weight eased up slightly, but if she hoped that he might stop, might show some shred of decency or compassion, then he was mistaken. His rough hands down the sensitive flesh along her side, her body responding to his touch even as she cried out for all this to stop. They reached past her hips, until at last they rested between her legs. And then she felt him, just the tip of his rod rubbing against her exposed opening.

He spoke then, while his hands were still on her, and she felt his words as much as she heard them.

"Good girl," he said, his breath tickling her ear, and then the bliss returned.

He touched her then, again and again. Along the breasts, the face, up and down her legs and all over her body. Each time speaking the words, telling her that she was a good girl, and Isana responded to them. Though a part of her knew that what he was doing was wrong, the rest was drowned utterly in warm, soaring joy.

When he finally entered her, it was ecstasy that made her cry out, not terror or pain. Her back arched, legs twining around her violator as she pressed herself against him. Isana craved contact, reveled in the touch of skin against skin. It didn't matter who or why, and even her hatred of him no longer held any relevance. Not in the face of the inescapable rightness of it.

He took her over and over, and Isana loved every second of it. She moaned, crying out in unabashed passion as he plunged into her. Never before had she felt anything like this overwhelming, mind shattering need that so consumed her. Again and again he told her she was a good girl, and the warm happiness of his words had subsumed her mind completely. It took very little effort to bring her to climax the first time, and even less the second.

Then the third came, and all awareness blended together into an unknowing mix of need and pleasure.

She screamed out a name. His name. The name of the man who had claimed her, and used her, and made her feel bliss beyond imagining.

Isana came again, and then, like an animal, passed beyond all thought or reasoning.

When Isana came to, she didn't know where she was. Somewhere rough and dirty. Had she bedded down out in the woods somewhere? Then why was it so warm? A soft, sedate afterglow of contentment infused her body, making her feel sleepy and placid. There was a not altogether unpleasant soreness between her legs that she couldn't quite understand. What was going on?

Memory returned in fits and starts, like a half remembered nightmare slowly pieced together throughout the day. Her hand reached up slowly, almost unwillingly, and found the hard metal of the collar.

Kord!

Isana bolted up, looking around. She was still in the smokehouse, and so was Kord. He was dressed once more, seated now on a low stool and watching her eagerly as she woke. Memories of their coupling flowed into her mind. Isana sobbed as she recalled the things he had done to her, and worse still, the things she had done for him without beign asked. More than anything, she remembered the things she had been made to feel. He stared down at her with a knowing, contemptuous sneer, the memory of her humiliation written across it. An agonizing shame welled up in her as she remembered how she had given herself to him so utterly, sharing a passion beyond anything she had given a man. Not even her beloved Gaius.

"Enjoy yourself, slut?" Kord mocked, knowing full well that she'd had no choice in the matter. The shame of her eager surrender broke her far more than any pain or discomfort ever could. Even worse, it still worked perfectly. Even though she knew full well what was happening, her mind and body had already begun to associate his approval with her own happiness. And although the thought sickened her, Isana was starting to feel twinges of desire whenever she thought of him.

"Of course you did," Kord laughed, "It's the only thing a whore like you is good for. Now thank me, slut."

Isana stared at him incredulously, but it did not take long before she surrendered to the inevitable.

"Thank you Kord," she said. Isana was disgusted with herself for thanking her tormentor, but less than she might have been. Already, she was growing to accept her place as a thing owned by Kord.

"Good girl," he said, and despite herself Isana began to smile, "Now come on, it's time you got settled in to your new life."

Isana looked down at her rumpled, discarded dress. She was still completely naked.

"Forget it," Kord said, "If I want you to wear something, I'll say so."

There was nothing Isana could do but follow him out into the yard, out in the open where her naked body was on display to all. A thin dribble of Kord's seed ran down her leg, and she sobbed once more. Even having lived it, Isana was still struggling to come to terms with what had happened. Just a few days ago, she had been the proud lady of a stead. Someone people respected, maybe even looked up to. Now that was all gone. She was nothing but another of Kord's playthings, just a broodsow to carry his foul progeny.

Maybe rescue would come, and maybe it wouldn't. Isana wasn't sure of anything anymore. What she did know was that until then, she belonged to Kord. This was her life now, like it or not, all she could do was try to get used to it.

Ten months later, Isana paused from her work in the kitchen to clutch her swollen middle. The baby was kicking again, its tiny feet pressing eagerly against the walls of her belly. She smiled, cradling the heavy bulge with her arms. It was anxious to come out, and she was eager to see it with her own eyes. Isana hoped it was the son Kord craved. He'd made it perfectly plain that he had no use for a girl, and that any daughter would be sold off with no regrets.

If she wanted to keep some useless girl around, then she'd better make sure there was an older brother first.

The thought produced a pang of anxious longing, but there was nothing she could do. Kord owned her, and it was his right to do whatever he wished with her body and whatever she produced. A part of her hated him for that, even after these long months in the collar, but she did her best to suppress those thoughts. They were dangerous ones, the kind that could get her into trouble. Isana was a good girl. She would do what she was supposed to.

Technically, they were married now, following a hefty bribe Kord had paid to a corrupt official. It wasn't quite legal, especially with that collar on her. In the eyes of the law, however, she had never been formally enslaved. This far from the capital, officials were more than willing to look the other way once coin was exchanged. It would legitimize her son, allow him to follow in his father's footsteps if he proved strong enough, but otherwise it did little to change Isana's life. She still lived with the other slaves, dressed like them, and worked along side them.

There were more of those, these days. When Kord finally believed her about the Marat, it was almost too late, but not so late that he wasn't in position to capitalize on the chaos. Like bandits, his men had preyed on the displaced refugees, capturing and enslaving whole scores of their former neighbors.

There had been a lot of familiar faces in Kord's slave lines. Heddy had been taken, her father and brothers either killed in the fighting, or by a vengeful Kord and his men. Aric had been forced to stand idly by, unable to save his clandestine lover while she was used again and again by his father. Something shattered inside him when she was sold off to a southbound convoy, and when pretty, innocent Beritte was captured Aric had grudgingly taken part in her breaking. The captured spy resisted harder and more effectively than most, but proved no more able to resist the collar than Isana had. Broken and obedient at last, some high noble had paid a good amount of money to purchase her in secret.

Of Bernard and dear, sweet Tavi, there had been no sign. She hoped that they had made it out, had found some way to reach safety once the valley was overrun, but it seemed less likely by the day. She shouldn't dwell on that, Isana knew. Kord didn't like it when she dwelled on the past, and it was... undesirable to disobey Kord's will. Even in the sanctity of her own thoughts.

Whatever she had been in the past, she was Kord's property now. Her entire purpose was to serve, please, and obey him in all things. She would carry his children, and if she was truly lucky, would mother his one day heir. She had no other goal or purpose in life anymore. She no longer wanted anything else.


End file.
